


Bend Me, Break Me

by jessalae



Category: House M.D.
Genre: BDSM, Community: kink_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Obviously, we're not going to make this a lifestyle thing." "Yeah, it's not like you need another excuse to order me around at the hospital."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bend Me, Break Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "masters, doms, slaves & subs" square on my card for round four of kink bingo; originally posted on my Dreamwidth September 29, 2011.

Chase had known that Foreman wouldn’t let things go very far before they had this conversation — it’s the way these relationships work, the only way to keep everybody involved safe and happy. So, after one night of vanilla sex to vent post-work frustration, one night of not so vanilla sex just to see what would happen, and a slightly tipsy conversation about power trips and how they make Chase’s breath catch in his throat, he finds himself in his apartment facing an extremely serious-looking Foreman across the kitchen table.

“Obviously, we’re not going to make this a lifestyle thing,” Foreman says. “For one thing, it would make our working relationship pretty much impossible.”

“Right,” Chase says. “And it’s not like you need another excuse to order me around at the hospital.” He grins, his tongue slipping between his teeth. Foreman raises an eyebrow at him, and he shuts up.

“I have a list,” Foreman says, “of limits. For the bedroom. You should fill one in too—“ he slides a stapled stack of paper across the table to Chase. “And then we can compare, and make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Yeah, all right.” Chase scans the list. There are words on it that anyone who’s ever watched a porno would know — gang bang, bondage, exhibitionism — but there are others that are less familiar, that spark distant memories of nights at various clubs: breathplay, spreader bars, cock worship. Chase’s mouth goes a little bit dry, and he shifts in his seat. Foreman eyes him disdainfully and hands him a pencil.

“Mark them yes, no, or maybe,” Foreman says, and Chase does. There are more yesses than nos, and more maybes than either, but he knows Foreman will absolutely respect any hard limits he sets, and negotiate carefully around the soft ones.

They swap lists, compare notes for a few minutes, and then Foreman puts Chase’s list on the table and says, “Okay. I’ll take this into consideration. Now, safewords.”

Chase shrugs. “Red works for me, yellow if I just need you to slow down.”

Foreman stares at him, then nods, cracking a smile for the first time in twenty minutes. “I was afraid you were going to want it to be ‘vasculitis’ or something.”

“Well, if you think you can remember it…” Chase grins at Foreman’s slightly horrified look. “Kidding.”

“Right. Anything else?”

“What about names?” Foreman looks confused, and Chase rolls his eyes. “You know, what we’re going to call each other. Titles. Things like that.”

“Aren’t Robert and Eric good enough?”

“Robert, sure, but…” Chase bites his lip, white teeth flashing on pink skin. The motion draws Foreman’s gaze like a moth to a flame. “I’d rather call you Sir.”

Foreman’s mouth drops open, just for an instant, and snaps shut abruptly. “Okay—“ his voice cracks on the K, and he tries again: “Okay. That works for me.”

“Excellent,” Chase says, his grin a mile wide.

 

Rules on a piece of paper are one thing — they’re harmless, theoretical, even if they do send Chase’s imagination whirring in all sorts of interesting directions. Putting the rules into practice is another story entirely, one where he could be experiencing any and all of the things he checked off last weekend in just a few minutes. There are butterflies in his stomach as he drives home from work, because honestly, it’s kind of terrifying – but it’s even more exhilarating, and that’s what makes him hopeful that this relationship is going to work out.

When Foreman walks into Chase’s bedroom, Chase is lounging on the bed, shoes kicked off, absentmindedly flipping channels on the TV. Foreman casually walks up next to him, takes the remote out of Chase’s hand, and turns the TV off. “Get undressed,” he says. His voice is calm, but with an iron core to it. These aren’t requests, these are _orders_. Apparently they’re starting things off right away, which suits Chase just fine.

Chase is down to his boxers in a matter of minutes, during which Foreman hasn’t so much as loosened his tie. He sits in the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, watching impassively as Chase steps out of his shorts and looks to him expectantly. Foreman glances at the pile of clothes on the floor, looks up at Chase, and raises an eyebrow. 

“Really?” Chase says incredulously, still in snark-mode from being at work. Then he literally bites his tongue, because Foreman’s eyes have just flashed a warning, and he hadn’t really intended to start disobeying orders this early in the game. He bends down to pick up his shirt, folding it neatly and setting it on the floor next to the bed. His pants join the pile, followed by his boxers and socks. He can feel Foreman’s eyes on him, especially when he bends over, and he makes sure to lean at just the right angle so that his ass is prominently displayed. When he straightens back up, though, Foreman looks entirely unmoved, the front of his pants undisturbed.

“On the bed,” Foreman says, standing up. “On your stomach.” Chase complies, and is still settling his arms around his head comfortably when Foreman smacks him on the ass. He jumps, more from surprise than pain, and gets another smack for his trouble.

“Not the best start, Robert.” Chase can feel the bed moving as Foreman sits behind him, grabbing his hips and pulling them up until Chase’s knees bend. “Disobeying the most basic instructions already. Are you sure you’re up to this?” Foreman’s voice is mocking. “I expect more from my subs.”

Chase’s mouth goes dry, and the act of clearing his throat delays his answer and earns him another slap on the ass. “Sorry, sir,” he pants. “Won’t happen again, sir.”

“Not after this it won’t,” Foreman says. “Let’s see — five pieces of clothing on the floor, talking back, shaking your ass like a slut—“ he grabs Chase’s ass cheeks, spreading them, sliding his thumb along Chase’s crack. “Seven strokes. That’s quite the punishment you’re in for.”

“I can take it,” Chase says. “Sir.”

“If you say so,” Foreman says. Chase feels the bed shift again, hears a jingling sound: Foreman’s belt. He turns his head just a fraction and sees Foreman folding it in half, wrapping the buckle end around his fist. He shuts his eyes, bracing himself, but the first stroke still takes him by surprise, and he doesn’t even have time to catch his breath before the second one lands, and the third. Doubled over like this, the leather creates more sound than actual impact, but by the time the fifth stroke lands his ass is definitely stinging, and numbers six and seven bring tears to his eyes. Foreman stops, letting out a slow breath, and runs a cool hand over Chase’s reddened flesh. Chase waits in silence.

Finally, Foreman decides he’s stared at Chase’s ass long enough. He slides off the bed, walking a bit more awkwardly now, and grabs the bottle of lube from the drawer in his bedside table. “Get yourself ready,” he says, tossing it on the bed in front of Chase. “Be thorough. Once you tell me you’re good, I’m going to fuck you right then and there, no extra preparation.”

Chase sucks in a shuddering breath and grabs the lube. “Y-yes sir. Would you like me on my knees or my back, sir?”

“Knees,” Foreman says. “Now start.”

Chase braces himself on one arm, squirting a generous amount of lube onto his other hand, and reaches behind himself. His ass has stopped stinging so much, but his skin is still warmer than normal, especially compared to the lube. He hisses involuntarily as the cold gel first touches his flesh, circling one slick finger around his entrance. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply to relax his tense muscles, and slips his finger inside, inch by inch. He thinks about all the things he’d marked as YES on his limit list, all the things Foreman might have in store for him, and his legs spread a bit wider almost of their own accord. He’s moving his finger a bit faster now, fucking himself steadily, and it doesn’t take long until he’s relaxed enough for a second finger.

He thinks about Foreman’s expression when he walked into the bedroom, when he first started giving Chase orders — to someone who didn’t know him well, he might have looked impassive, even bored, but Chase has been working with him long enough to recognize the slow burn of excitement in his gaze. He imagines how Foreman’s face will look when they’re fucking, all that burning desire brought to the forefront, his calm-and-collected façade slipping gradually away as he fucks Chase into the mattress.

Another squirt of lube, a third finger. Chase’s erection, which had flagged a bit while Foreman was spanking him, is now back at full attention, leaking precome onto the bedspread. He desperately wants to grab his cock, stroke himself, but that wasn’t part of his instructions, so he just arches his back a bit more so the head brushes the blankets. The soft friction of the cotton against his glans makes him moan under his breath, almost a sob, and he rocks his hips back, fucking himself harder on his fingers.

“Open your eyes,” Foreman says, his voice low and harsh somewhere just off to the right. Chase does, looking up at his master with blown pupils, and discovers that Foreman has undressed fully and is standing right next to the bed, stroking his cock slowly. His erection hovers right near Chase’s face, and Chase can’t resist turning his head just enough to lick it, mouthing at the head.  
“Please,” he pants, “Please, sir, can I suck it? Please, I want to so bad.”

“Aren’t you ready for me to fuck you?” Foreman says, the slow motion of his hand never stopping.  
“Please, I want to suck your cock,” Chase repeats.

“Fine,” Foreman says, not quite pulling off a grudging tone of voice. “But just for a minute. And keep fucking yourself.”

Chase groans and lunges forward, throwing himself dangerously off-balance until Foreman moves closer. He wraps his lips around the head of Foreman’s cock, runs his tongue over the slit, tastes the rush of precome, then takes it down further. It feels wonderful in his mouth, full and heavy and hot, and he sucks enthusiastically. Foreman’s hips shift forward millimeter by millimeter until the head of his cock is brushing the back of Chase’s throat with each stroke. All the while Chase keeps his three fingers moving inside himself, curling and scissoring perfectly so he stays right on the edge, every nerve in his body awake and taking notice. It’s amazing, being filled from both ends like this, and he’s extremely glad that next to “gang bang” he had circled, underlined, and added a few exclamation points to the word “yes.”

Foreman makes a strangled sound deep down in his throat and steps away. Chase’s lips slide off his cock with a popping noise. “Are you ready for me now?” Foreman asks, already reaching into the bedside table for a condom.

“Yes, sir,” Chase gasps. “Oh, please, yes, fuck me.”

Foreman has the condom on and is positioning himself behind Chase in a few swift motions. “Grab the headboard,” he says, and as soon as Chase does Foreman’s hands are grabbing fiercely at his hips and he’s sinking in, hilt-deep in one even stroke that actually makes Chase scream in pleasure. Foreman immediately sets a blinding pace, but Chase is ready, so ready, and it’s absolutely perfect. He shoves his hips back to meet each stroke, moaning like a porn star every time Foreman bottoms out inside him, and he can tell it sounds cheesy but really can’t bring himself to care. Foreman, for his part, is swearing a blue streak under his breath, calling Chase _slut_ and _whore_ and _such a good little sub, oh yeah, opened up this gorgeous ass so nice for your master_. Chase’s mind is barely processing the words, sending them off instead to some primal corner of his brain that turns each insult into a dart of pleasure shooting straight for his dick.

“Touch yourself,” Foreman finally grates out, never slowing his rhythm. “Grab your cock, tell me how it feels.”

“Do you want me to come, sir?” Chase asks. _Oh please oh please oh please—_

“Not until I say,” Foreman says. “Come on, grab your cock. Do it!”

Chase sobs out a moan and strokes his cock, open-palmed, knowing it’s not going to take much. “Oh my god,” he gasps, “fuck, you feel amazing inside me, I love getting fucked like this, _ah_ —“ his cock spasms, and he wraps a hand tightly around the base, hanging onto his control by the skin of his teeth. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come, please, I can’t, it’s too good, please, please, _pleasepleasepleaseplease_ —“ His face is screwed up with concentration, his abdominal muscles twitching and tensing. He knows the effort is making him clench tighter around Foreman, can hear it in the way Foreman’s breath catches. 

“Move your hand,” Foreman says. “Stroke yourself. Don’t come.”

Chase complies, tears sneaking out of the corners of his eyes. “Please, god, oh my god, it _hurts_ it’s so good, I’m gonna explode, please, please!”

“Come _now_ ,” Foreman orders, and Chase does, _screaming_ , his arms giving way. He can’t see, can’t feel anything but his orgasm rushing through him like an electric shock. A hot rush of come coats his hand, and Foreman is still fucking him, relentless, until he shouts and his rhythm falters, his fingers digging into Chase’s hips hard enough to bruise. Finally he stills, eases out of Chase’s ass, and steps off the bed to throw away the condom. Chase collapses, shaking, curled in a sticky pile on the bed. He’s trying to muster the energy to crawl under the covers when Foreman comes back, lying down next to him and pulling him into an unusually affectionate embrace.

“You okay?” Foreman asks, brushing a sweaty curl of hair out of Chase’s eyes. “I went kind of hard on you at the end, there.”

“You think?” Chase says, raising his eyebrows, but he can’t stop himself from smiling. “I’m fine. I’m great.”

“I didn’t push it too far?”

“Just far enough.”

Foreman smoothes a hand over Chase’s back, rubbing some relief into sore muscles. “Good.” They lie there in silence for a moment, sweat still cooling on their skin, until Foreman says, “You know, I think this might actually work out.”

Chase smiles and silently agrees.


End file.
